


Namesake

by orphan_account



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Beads, Aphrodisiacs, Cock Rings, Edging, Fucking Machines, Gags, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP, Paralysis, Sex Toys, im going to hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 12:36:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6754039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daredevil catches the actual Devil's attention. Unfortunately for Matt, Satan likes him.<br/><br/>______________________________________<br/>For the kink meme prompt: <em>Matt is knocked out one night while out Daredeviling. When he wakes up he has been injected with something to paralyse him but leave him able to feel everything (he can still breathe and everything) and an aphrodisiac.</em><br/><em>The kidnapper then carefully explains everything he is doing as he brings him to the brink over and over again, using whatever methods and whatever toys etc you like. Then when he finally allows him to cum, he makes him do it over and over again, all the time explaining everything to him carefully and clinically while Matt had no choice but to lie there.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Namesake

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to Hell.

Perched on the roof of the church, Matt cocks his head to the side. He heard ... _something_ \-- a flutter of wings too large to belong to any city bird. There’s a new villain running around called the Vulture, but he’s never landed in Hell’s Kitchen before. 

Someone inhales deeply behind him, and he spins around, reaching for their throat. 

But there’s no one there. No heartbeat. No scent. No displaced air.

“The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen,” a voice says, several feet away, mid-air, off the roof where there’s nowhere to stand. No flutter of wings accompanies it. 

Matt widens his senses, shoulders drawing tight at the onslaught of city sounds and scents and vibrations, and still he can’t detect anything.

“What a name,” the voice croons, rich and liquid-smooth. It’s not deep, but it’s not high-pitched, either. Male, female, Matt can’t say.

Heat twists up his side, like smoke. He leaps away from it, pulling out the billy club. “Who are you? What do you want?”

Laughter from up above him, throaty and just shy of human. The back of Matt’s neck prickles. “Originally?” the voice asks. “I wanted to kill you.”

Matt eases himself backwards, towards the ledge. There’s a one-story drop to the next roof.

The voice tsks, and living heat engulfs Matt, slipping under and through the suit and dancing across his skin, seeping into it. He twitches and gasps, and mist-like warmth pours into his throat. “But I’ve been watching you, and oh, for a mere namesake you do make me proud,” the voice says, and Matt chokes on smoke, chokes on the languid call of sleep. His body betrays him, trembling and weak and drooping. He collapses to his knees.

“I’m going to give you a gift,” the voice murmurs in his ear, sending a rush of endorphins down his spine. Hands coalesce and prop him up by his shoulders before he can fall face first into the concrete. The world fades away. 

o-o-o

“Wake up,” the voice demands crisply. The bed shifts with the weight of someone lying down next to him, radiating heat, and a hand, calloused and slim-fingered, pushes his sweaty hair away from his face.

He lies on silk sheets, naked and warm. When he tries to sit up his body refuses to listen. A haze clouds his thoughts, and he struggles to remember how he got here, to remember _why_ he’s here, who he’s with. He knows something’s wrong but he’s not sure what; he’s not sure he wants to know, actually. He feels… nice.

The silk’s rough against his skin, the air heavy with humidity and… and something. Some scent, similar to sandalwood and vanilla. He breathes in deep, and his body shudders at the onslaught of wanton need. He’s too hot, too sensitive. “Wha--?” His mouth won’t work. “Wha’id you d-do?” The words come out rough and clumsy, his tongue heavy.

A thumb strokes his lower lip. “Don’t talk, or I might decide to gag you,” the voice says, and for a moment it sounds like-- 

“‘Lectra?” 

The voice changes, becomes more distinct. Soft, manicured hands, lotion rubbed into their callouses, run down his twitching sides and tap on his groin, just above his aching cock.

His hips twitch involuntarily, but his heart hurts. His eyes itch and burn. He wants to rub them, but he can’t work up the will to move his arm.

“Oh no,” Elektra hums, and her voice changes. It deepens, grows huskier, rougher. “That won’t do,” says the -- the thing-- with Frank’s voice. New hands, thicker and rougher, grab him by the hips and pull him up the bed, propping his head up on a firm pillow. The silk of the sheets scrapes across his back, a pleasant burn on his senses, and Matt whines. “Now this?” asks Frank, running a hand down Matt’s thigh, making Matt twitch. “Yeah, Red. This’ll do,” he purrs. “I like Castle. Good choice.” 

“Wha? Fr-Frank, what’s, what’s going on?” Matt asks, and God, why can’t he think? He needs to think, he needs to know what’s going on. He _needs_ …. He needs.

Frank grabs his cock and gives it a warning squeeze, and Matt’s body jerks from the shock of it. “I told you to quit talking, Murdock.” He lets go, and Matt whines at the loss of him, untethered and unbalanced. He feels like the world might tip on its axis at any moment. 

There’s an odd shift in the air, a faint scent of rainfall and ozone, and then he feels Frank’s body loom over him. “I’m gonna gag you, Matthew,” Frank says, and the way he says Matt’s name sounds too intimate, almost apologetic. “Didn’t want to, but it’s for the best, givin’ you something to occupy yourself with. Open your mouth. I’ve allowed you that much.”

He’s been… ‘allowed’ that much? 

“What are you -- how are you--” Matt’s cut off by something bulbous and rubber being pushed into his mouth. He tries to fight it by blocking the rubber with his teeth, but that familiar smoke trickles into his nose and mouth, and a wave of hot dizziness wracks his body. His mouth falls open, and Frank pops the rubber piece in. It’s short and oval, maybe an inch long, and it’s attached to a rectangular strap of leather. Frank smooths the leather, supple and cool, against Matt’s face and wraps the ends of around his head, buckling them together in the back. All Matt can do in his confusion is make a small, questioning noise. He’s… vaguely afraid, but the fear feels distant, like an insistent prodding in the back of his head. 

Frank hums in satisfaction. “Good boy. No more interruptions now.” The bed dips again as Frank swings a leg over Matt’s body. He crouches over Matt, calves pressing against Matt’s thighs, elbows framing Matt’s head. Matt’s dick, painfully erect, brushes Frank’s naked stomach. Saliva builds in Matt’s mouth, and he can’t help but lick around the rubber, just to see what’s it like. He sucks and swallows. 

Frank inhales. “You smell desperate,” he says on the exhale, and air that somehow -- somehow, miraculously -- feels like starlight ghosts over Matt’s face. He shudders, and he can hear the grin in Frank’s voice. “You look it, too.” He sits back on Matt’s thighs, observing Matt, who wishes he could at least squirm. Instead he just lies there, limp. “However,” Frank says, voice curling around Matt’s senses, and he doesn’t sound at all like Matt’s Frank now, “I prefer you a little more…” Frank grabs Matt’s wrists -- gently, ever so gently -- and raises them above his head, “prone.” 

Matt’s breath stutters, fear making a valiant effort to be known. “Shh, shh, you’ll be alright,” Frank murmurs. He leans forward and kisses Matt’s forehead. Heat blooms from his lips, and the fear in Matt slinks to the back of his mind, compliant for the moment. “I promise,” says Frank, “I’ll make this good for you. It’s funny,” he huffs, leaning away, sitting heavier, voice casual like they’re two friends on a lunchdate. “You’ve punished yourself so much you’ve practically done my job for me. So I figure we both deserve a break, just for a moment, don’t you, mini-me?” He laughs to himself. “But I can see into your head, you know, and you’d never allow yourself that.” He draws a finger up the hard line of Matt’s cock, and Matt shudders. “That’s why I’ve gotta do it for you.” 

Not-Frank skates his fingers over Matt’s ribcage, and Matt’s abs tremble and tighten. “You can’t consciously move, but I’ve given you certain liberties,” he says. “You’re welcome. You can react unconsciously and you can use your mouth and throat.” His voice deepens. “I may not care for your words, but oh, how I love the screams of men.” He chuckles, and something clicks in the back of Matt’s heat-addled head. This isn’t -- he’s not -- he must be hallucinating. Or this -- this Not-Frank’s delusional. “Oh, I’m delusional now? Like I haven’t heard that one before.” Frank taps on the gag, sending vibrations through Matt’s mouth. “Do you know what this is?”

Does he expect Matt to answer him? Matt can’t even nod his head.

“Cheeky.” Frank gives him a tiny slap on the cheek. “It’s a pecker gag, Matthew, to give those nice lips of yours something to suck on.” Matt doesn’t mean to, but he swallows. The rubber bumps the top of his mouth and lies heavy on his tongue. “Very good,” Frank rumbles, and Matt’s cock twitches. Frank hums thoughtfully and wraps his hands around it, making Matt’s hips jerk upward, his cock aching. 

“I don’t know if you’ll last very long, ‘affected’ as you are by my… charms. So I suppose we’ll have to take care of this, won’t we.” 

Matt wishes he could thrust forward into Frank’s grip and make him take care of it faster.

“Oh, not like that, Matthew. Red. Alterboy. Oh, I like that one. My alterboy,” he articulates the nickname carefully, like he’s testing it out. He pulls a hand away, and Matt can sense him twisting it midair. “I’m going to put a cock-ring on you. You’ve used one before with Elektra -- I like her, too-- so you shouldn’t be too surprised by it.” 

Matt’s chest tightens painfully, and if he wasn’t drugged, his erection would have wilted. 

“Oh, relax. You’ll see her again, one way or another.” Not-Frank says it like a joke, but before Matt can so much as grunt in protest, Not-Frank’s maneuvering the ring over his cock and sealing it around the base, all pressure and begging nerves. Matt trembles and whimpers, hips twitching forward. He bites down on the rubber.

“Now,” says Frank, dragging blunt nails up and down Matt’s angry cock. “Now we’re ready.”

He climbs off Matt and pads around the bed. Matt listens and takes in what he can -- the man’s bare feet pad across marble flooring, and a fireplace crackles and the sound bounces high off the vaulted ceiling. The scent of ozone and rainfall radiates off the man, and no sound from the outside world manages to penetrate the room. 

The man stops beside Matt and grabs him by the ankles. He drags Matt’s body so that he lies sideways across the bed and his calves dangle over the side. Not-Frank pushes Matt’s legs apart, and Matt’s stomach twists, with fear or anticipation, he’d rather not know. 

“I’ll tell you what we’re doing. No surprises. We’ll start simple. Prop you up,” Not-Frank slides a pillow under Matt’s hips. “Get you all lubed up.” Matt’s hole clenches involuntarily, and Not-Frank tsks and pushes one of Matt’s thighs to the side. He circles Matt’s hole with a warm, lubricated finger. He pushes the finger in, and Matt gasps around the gag. The rubber hits the roof of his mouth. “You need to relax, Alterboy. I promise nothing bad will happen to you.” Smoke ghosts up Matt’s sides, sandalwood and vanilla, and his eyelids droop. Frank slips a second finger in. “There we go, Red.” He pets and presses against Matt’s insides, searching. He scissors his fingers, then pets and presses and presses more until finally he nudges Matt’s prostate and sets Matt’s senses alight. 

Unable to stop himself, Matt groans around the gag, and Not-Frank rubs that spot again. Spine arching, Matt shudders, and he tries to use the movement to pull away, but his godforsaken body won’t listen. “Easy, Matt.” Frank slips in a third finger and works him until he shakes and whines around the rubber, and he wants to shove himself down on those fingers. He hates himself for it.

All too soon, Frank pulls away, leaving Matt bereft. He bites down on the rubber to stifle a whine, and Frank hums in amusement. “Don’t act too eager,” he drawls. “I’ll prep you just a little more.” Something small and round nudges insistently at Matt’s hole, and Frank pushes Matt’s thigh out further. “With anal beads. I just wanna… see how your respond,” Frank says, voice husky with hunger. 

Matt swallows around the rubber as the first bead pops in, small and not too noticeable. It’s not particularly erotic. Maybe this won’t be so bad. “They get progressively bigger. Now the next.” The next bead pushes against his hole, and it is bigger. It takes an extra second, but it pops in with a wet sound, making Matt twitch at the sensation. “There are seven total. Now the third. You should really feel it now.” The third encounters more resistance, and Matt’s body can’t decide if it wants to pull away or push closer. At last his body swallows it, and the smallest bead slides across his prostate. Forehead slick with sweat, he jerks, choking on the gag.

He can’t take in any more. He feels full. 

“You look gorgeous, Alterboy. All flushed and straining. I wonder what will happen if I pull these all out.”

Matt groans, he thinks in protest. Heat floods his body. He can’t think. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna do that. Should feel good.” Not-Frank says, and before Matt can make a sound he pulls the beads out. 

Matt screams around the gag.

“Oh, you want them back? Okay,” says Not-Frank, all too pleased with himself. He pushes the three beads back in with a quick pop-pop-pop, and Matt whines in exhaustion, aftershock racing through his body. Pre-come leaks down his cock, teasing it.

“Shh.” Frank smooth sweaty hair off Matt’s forehead. “Only four more.”

Matt tries and fails to shake his head. All he can do is lie there while Frank says, “Now the fourth,” and slowly but surely presses the fourth one in. The beads massage Matt’s prostate, and Frank tugs on them lightly, just enough to make the fourth one press on the inside of his hole. “Good boy,” Frank says when Matt’s breath hitches. “Now the fifth.” The fifth won’t go in -- it can’t go in, it’s too big, it has to be too big -- but it does anyway, and when Matt’s prostate takes another hit with the movement, the bead on it stays put, pressing against him. He squeezes his eyes shut as if that’ll make a difference. 

“Last two together,” and no, no, no, that’s too much, Matt can’t take it -- he groans in protest. He’s too full. He can’t--

“Hey, hey, hey, you can do this.” Frank rubs soothing circles over Matt’s stomach. “You’re being so good for me. Just keep breathing.” Matt inhales deeply, only then realizing that he’d been holding his breath. “There you go,” Frank murmurs, and then he guides the next two beads forward. Slowly and inexorably they push forward, stretching Matt’s hole until it swallows the sixth, his insides spasming from the unstoppable pressure on his prostate. He pants through the process, saliva dampening the leather of the gag.

The last bead, huge in Matt’s opinion, pops in, and Not-Frank sighs in satisfaction. “Oh, you’re amazing.” He presses down on Matt’s stomach, making the beads shift on their own. Matt inhales sharply and sucks on the rubber. “I’m tempted to play with your body just like this,” Frank tugs on the handle of the beads, making the largest threaten to come out, “for hours…. I’ll pull them out now, mostly.” He tugs, slowly, and the beads pop out one by one, till there are only three left inside Matt. “Now back in.” He pushes them all back in. The relentless grind against Matt’s prostate makes his body quiver. “One more pump, Alterboy. I’ll pull them all out but one, then back in. Ready?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “Out.”

The beads pop out, out, out till there’s only one left and Matt feels achingly empty. Not-Frank waits a second, and Matt sucks in air like a dying man. “And in,” Not-Frank says, too soon, and the beads push back in. The corners of Matt’s eyes prickle with unshed tears, and his lips go slack around the gag, the pressure of the leather on his face oddly comforting. 

Not-Frank grazes his fingers up Matt’s neglected cock, and Matt’s body seizes. “What to do with you now…,” Frank ponders. “I’m going to taste you.” He grabs Matt’s feet and swings them back up on the bed. The movement jostles the beads; they rub against his walls and push at his hole and press against his prostate. His heartbeat pulses in his cock.

Frank crouches over him on the massive bed, his breath brushing over Matt’s cock. It would tickle if Matt wasn’t so hard, but instead it hurts. “Breathe,” Frank says, and then liquid heat engulfs Matt’s cock. Frank sucks, and Matt thinks he’s dying. The gag muffles his cries, but even then they’re loud enough someone’s got to hear them. Right? 

Frank pulls off, licking the tip of Matt’s cock before leaving it woefully untouched. “You really want this to end so badly?” Smoke curls around Matt’s face, and he wants, he wants, he _wants-_ \- “That’s what I thought,” says Not-Frank. “Just a little more.” He goes down on Matt again.

Time seems to shift around Matt, to stall. The wet heat and pressure goes on and on forever, and it feels so good, so terrible, he’s going to die--

Frank sits up at the same time he slips the cock ring off, and Matt’s world explodes with pleasure. It blots out his senses, and he spurts across his stomach. He sucks in a breath of relief, chest heaving, as he comes down from it, tired and dazed. Not-Frank smacks his lips, humming. “Not bad, Alterboy,” he says in approval. Matt only half-hears him, light-headed and falling into a sated stupor. 

“Oh, you’re not done yet,” Not-Frank purrs, and that, Matt does catch. His heartbeat picks up, just a little.

Frank crouches over him again, and sandalwood and vanilla makes Matt’s head spin. He slips gentle hands behind Matt’s head and undoes the buckle of the gag. Saliva trails from the rubber as Frank pulls the gag out, leaving Matt’s mouth open, lips slack from the rush. Not-Frank rubs the spit away with a rough-padded thumb, and the next thing Matt knows Not-Frank’s kissing him, lips forceful and sloppy, tongue barely flicking in. Dizzying heat spreads from Matt’s mouth to his limbs to his cock, and it twitches painfully. Not-Frank pulls away. Their breaths mingle. “You’re so good, Red. You have no idea. I’m gonna be real good to you.”

He pulls away and drags Matt’s body down to the end of the bed. “Unfortunately,” he drawls, and he’s never sounded less like Frank, “I have paperwork, of all things, to attend to.” Clinking chains snake down the bed, and Matt doesn’t understand how they’re doing it because Not-Frank’s standing far away from them, slipping the pillow back under Matt’s ass. “So I’ll need some help taking care of you.” Soft cuffs snap around Matt’s wrists and ankles. “Now, I know, I know, you’re immobile already. What do I need restraints for?”

Something metallic and heavy clicks and clacks on the floor, and the cuffs around Matt’s ankles spread his legs wide. He shakes. He really does feel… prone. “Well, I’m glad you asked. Let me just take these out--” 

The beads pop out in a rush. “Fuck, fuck,” Matt gasps, voice rough with disuse. 

“Hm. I like your voice. Feel free to scream all you want during this next little… exercise.” Slick noises fill the room while he talks. “I’ll --what’s the phrase this century? ‘Keep an ear out.’ But you don’t have to worry about anyone else hearing you. This place, it’s all mine. Ah, here we go. I’m going to make sure you’re fully lubricated, Matthew. This may be a bit cold.”

“I can’t -- I can’t do anything else,” Matt says in a rush, forcing the words out. “I’m done. I’m spent.”

A narrow rubber tip slides into his hole. “I suppose I can always put another cock ring on you.” 

“No, no -- ah!” Cold gel pumps into him, making him shiver and quake. “What--nngh,” Another pump of gel steals the words, and then Not-Frank pulls the pump out. 

“Let me just check and see…” Not-Frank slips a finger into Matt’s slick hole, then a second. He finds Matt’s prostate and pets it. 

“St--stop,” Matt breathes out, shocks of pleasure sparking through his body. 

“If you insist,” Not-Frank says, pulling his fingers out. “You’re ready, anyway.” 

“Ready--?” 

Slick, rounded silicon nudges his hole. He swallows, cock twitching again. “Is that -- is that a….?”

“Dildo? Yes. It’s attached to a fucking machine.” He strokes a hand up the inside of Matt’s thigh while Matt chokes on air. “Don’t worry, Alterboy. I’ll start you off slow. See?” The dildo pushes forward, and Matt’s body resists. “You make such a pretty sight.” Matt’s hole stretches, and the dildo pumps into him, missing his prostate. It pulls back out with a wet, suctioning noise, and Not-Frank lets out a disgruntled sound. He adjusts the angle of the dildo, then snaps his fingers. “You really need some more stability.” Two more chains snake across Matt’s torso, locking him in place. 

“Frank,” Matt says nervously, before he can stop himself.

“Oh, we both know I’m not Frank,” the man purrs. “But don’t worry, you’ll see him soon enough, by his standards. Time passes differently here.”

Matt blinks like it’ll make a difference, vertigo making his stomach flip. “No, no, this isn’t -- you’re not --” 

“Save your existential crisis for later, kid. Now’s your time to kick back and relax.” The dildo presses against his hole again. “Seriously, relax.” It pumps in, agonizingly slow, and this time it hits his prostate, dragging across it. “I’ll be at my desk.” 

“No, no -- wait --” 

“Don’t make me gag you again,” Not-Frank warns. He pads away. Wood scrapes across the floor as he pulls a chair out, and then a pen scratches against paper and the scent of fresh ink seeps into the air. The dildo drags and drags and drags, more annoying than anything else. Matt can bear this. 

“I’m speeding it up now,” Not-Frank says, and before Matt can get a word of protest out the dildo pumps into him faster, like the speed of a jogger’s heartbeat. Matt hisses and bites his lip. But he can still bear this. He just has to concentrate….

It goes on for a minute, or half an hour, he’s not really sure, but he starts to sink into a meditative trance. He’s meditated through fractures and bruised internal organs. In comparison this is easy. 

“Why do you keep holding back? You seriously hate yourself that much?” Not-Frank murmurs, almost in awe. “If only actual sinners felt as bad as you do.” Frank --it’s not Frank, Matt reminds himself-- sighs in resignation. “Let’s pick up the pace. Say, two pumps per second.” 

“Wait--” Matt says.

The machine picks up, and the room fills with the sound of it. Matt’s cheeks burn and his mouth falls open, the constant drag on his prostate going straight to his dick. He pants hard, trying to control himself.

“Faster now. Five pumps per second. Let’s see how much you can take.” 

The machine fucks him faster, too quickly to count even though he just heard Frank say it, and Matt’s body spasms. Waves of pleasure roll through him, and his cock aches. The speed and force of the machine nearly push Matt’s body up the bed, but the chains and cuffs hold him in place. 

“Should I make it go faster?”

Matt moans, and he tries so hard not to come, he tries and he tries and he tries, but -- “Stop, stop, stop, I can’t, God--”

Not-Frank barks out a laugh. “Okay,” he says in good humor, and the machine slows, back to two pumps a second. Matt sucks in air, getting his breath back.

“Three pumps a second now.” And the fucking machine speeds up, just enough to put Matt back on edge. “I’m not going to do anything else to you for ten minutes. Then I’ll check back in with you. Try not to distract me too much, okay, Alterboy?”

Matt grits his teeth, focusing on the ceiling.

“Okay,” Not-Frank says, and he returns to his work.

The machine keeps going, non-stop. It’s not as fast as before, Matt tells himself, so he can handle it. He almost works himself into a meditative state for the first two minutes, but the pleasure builds and burns in his groin, his insides pulsing from the continuous drag on his prostate, and his hips try to twitch, but his body’s drawn too taut by his restraints.

He’s gasping by the fifth minute, limbs trembling. By the seventh minute he’s whining. By the eighth, his mind addled and his muscles tight with need, he’s begging. “Fr-Frank, I can’t, I can’t, come on, you know I can’t--”

Frank doesn’t answer. 

Matt loses track of time. All he knows is the pump-pump-pump of the machine, the shock of his prostate, and the painful ache of his dick. His hips tremble in aborted jerks. His balls tighten. 

“Oh no, you don’t,” Frank says from his desk. 

The fucking machine stops. 

“What--why?” Matt breathes. He tries to push his hips down onto the dildo, but they won’t listen.

“It’s been ten minutes, and I didn’t say you could come yet,” Not-Frank says. “I want you to take it for a little longer. So we’ll go slow again. One pump per second. It’ll be easy.”

The machine starts up again, so, so slow. Achingly slow. Matt’s cock weeps. 

“Frank,” he says.

“Ten minutes,” Frank growls. “Now shut up, or I’ll put the gag back in.”

Matt shuts up. The pleasure builds again, but it’s so slow, it’s not enough. Matt groans. Pump, goes the machine. Pump. Pump. Pump. Pump -- it’s driving him mad. 

“Six more minutes, Red.” 

Matt’s going to die like this, on edge and shaking with need. 

“Three more minutes. You’re doing so well.”

Matt breathes hard, open-mouthed. The machine pumps away.

“One more minute.”

Frank shuffles papers around, pen clicking, and then he stands up and approaches Matt. Matt can feel his gaze. 

“Frank, please--”

“Please what?”

“I don’t--I don’t know, just…” Matt can’t think through all the frustration. He knows he should be fighting this, but…

“Two pumps per second now.” 

The machine pumps faster, and Matt almost sighs in relief, except it’s still _not enough_ \-- “Frank, Frank, please….”

“You’re gonna have to speak up, Red. Three pumps now.”

Matt moans as the machine’s pace picks up. “Please let me--” he swallows, giving in. “Let me come,” he says softly. 

Frank’s fingers thread through his hair. “That’s all I wanted to hear. I’m going to touch you now,” he says softly, and then he wraps his hands around Matt’s dick.

Matt comes with a shout after only one drag of Frank’s hands, cock twitching and body arching with the force of it. 

He breathes hard, cock wilting, finally, as Frank wipes him down with a warm, damp cloth. But… the machine’s still going, almost painful to Matt’s over-sensitized body. “Frank, Frank,” Matt mumbles. “You can stop it now.”

Frank -- it’s not Frank -- hums in contemplation, pulling the cloth away. Slick fingers prod the rim of Matt’s hole while the machine fucks in. “I could. But I want to.”

A cold flash of nervousness wracks Matt’s body. “What.”

He can hear Not-Frank smile. “Well, now that we’ve established honest and open communication, it’s time to do it all over again.”

Matt gapes, not knowing what to say. 

Not-Frank leans in, and smoke curls up Matt’s sides. Somehow, it seeps into the slit of his dick, and he arches, electrified by too-much-too-much. “Ah-h,” he gasps, and Not-Frank crawls over him and sucks on his throat. 

“We’re going to have so much fun, you and me,” he whispers. 

The machine pumps away, and Matt shivers.

**Author's Note:**

> Jesus, take the wheel.
> 
> Also, straight-up porn is generally not my thing, so please excuse any fumblings, on my part.


End file.
